The Ghosts of Christmas Eve
by Cordria
Summary: Vlad was content on his own until he was met by three ghosts, who were delivering a very special invite to a Christmas Eve party.


_A fluffy story with no real point and no real angst... cowritten by myself and one of my friends. Beware._

_I know it's late. Meli's bugging me enough about it already - so shush._

_Originally posted on my dA journal as a five-part short story.  
_

--

**The Ghosts of Christmas Eve  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cori and Meli

--

"No."

There was a quiet pause before a soft voice said, "But I haven't asked my question yet."

"That doesn't change the answer."

"What if it's not a yes/no question?"

Vlad curled his fingers a little tighter around his fork, refusing to look up or even acknowledge the boy's question. There was always the hope that the persistent child would just leave him alone.

"What if I asked you _not_ to give me a hundred dollars?"

With a sigh, Vlad looked up into two earnest blue eyes that sparkled with something more than just life. "Curiosity killed the cat, Andrew."

The ten-year-old tipped his head to the side, studying Vlad through his messy mop of black hair, obviously confused. "I thought Grandpa Jack ran over the cat."

Vlad couldn't help the snort of laughter at the mention of his old friend, cutting off a piece of his steak before saying anything more. "What do you want, kid?"

The youngest of the half-ghosts grinned and dropped into an empty chair. "We talked about _The Christmas Carol_ at school last week."

"Did you now?" Vlad muttered, turning his attention back to his food.

"Yup. And there's this one guy in the story, his name is Scrooge. He's a lonely old guy who doesn't believe in Christmas."

Vlad arched an eyebrow and popped a bite of his steak into his mouth, waiting for the boy to get to the point. The entire Fenton clan had the tendency to blather on and never really mention why they had bothered to speak to him in the first place. Vlad had gotten used to waiting and ignoring.

"Scrooge was visited by these ghosts at night," Andrew continued, either ignoring or not noticing Vlad's eye roll, "and he had to go see his own grave." There was a quiet note to the boy's voice as he said that. "Scrooge got really scared."

Slowly chewing his steak, Vlad gazed at the youngest half-ghost. "And…" he drawled.

"Dad said I could invite you over for Christmas Eve dinner."

Vlad blinked at the sudden change in topic. "I don't think your father…"

"He _did_ say yes," the boy insisted, leaning forwards with his hands on the table. His eyes were glowing brightly. "And you have to come!"

Vlad let out a slow breath. Daniel's son had proven time and time again to be an adamant and stubborn child; he wouldn't be easily dissuaded from what he'd chosen. Having taken plenty of pages from both of his parents' books on being moral and helpful, the boy was no doubt on a mission of some sort. And from his talk earlier about Scrooge being a 'lonely old guy', it wasn't hard to determine what the mission was.

Even though he didn't want to attend the stupid holiday meal, Vlad was pretty sure that Andrew wouldn't leave until he'd extracted a 'promise' that Vlad would go. "Dinner is a family thing, Andrew. I wouldn't want to intrude."

The boy beamed. "It's okay. Uncle Tucker's coming, and so are Grandpa Jack and Aunt Jazz and a lot of other people. It's not just family this year."

"Are you sure you have enough chairs?" Vlad drawled.

Worry sparkled in Andrew's eyes for a moment, not quite catching on to the sarcastic intent of the words. A grin flickered on Vlad's face for a heartbeat; the boy was truly Jack's grandson. "Maybe I can borrow one from the neighbors…"

Vlad cut him off with a wave of his fork. "I'm busy tonight, Andrew."

"On Christmas Eve?"

"Yes. I have a lot of paperwork to do before the New Year."

"Aren't you too old to have to do paperwork?"

Vlad closed his eyes and set down his fork. "No."

"Oh."

There was a long enough silence that Vlad let an eye crack open, wondering if the boy had left and just accepted Vlad's answer. There was no such luck, however. Andrew had rested his chin on his crossed arms and was staring at him, waiting.

Vlad opened his eyes the rest of the way and stared back. After a long minute, Vlad blinked and shook his head. "I don't want to go, Andrew."

"I don't want you to see your grave when the ghosts come to get you," the boy said simply.

Vlad's eyes narrowed. "The Christmas Carol is fiction; there is no such thing as the ghost of Christmas future."

Andrew didn't answer. He just continued to stare at him and wait.

Pushing his plate out of the way, Vlad leaned forwards a little. "I've already picked out my gravestone," he said darkly. "A ghost showing it to me again isn't going to be much of a surprise."

Again, there was no answer but the quiet stare.

"Annoyance," Vlad muttered, sitting back in his chair and drinking the last of his wine. "Fine, fine, whatever. I'll come to your silly dinner," he lied. Why he hadn't done so right off the bat, he didn't quite know.

Andrew instantly grinned, his eyes lighting up. "It's a potluck – Mom says you're supposed to bring a plate of appetizers and be at our house by four."

"Excellent."

The boy was gone again almost as quickly as he'd arrived, leaving Vlad alone at his table in his empty mansion. He scowled down at his plate before picking it up and carrying it to the kitchen. "Good riddance." Dropping the plate into the sink for his maid to wash the next day, he snorted and said, "Bah humbug."

--

Vlad had absolutely no intention of going to the Christmas Eve dinner the Fentons were hosting. For a few hours after lunch, he sat at his desk, going through the piles of paperwork he still had to do. He hadn't been completely lying when he'd told Daniel's son that he had quite a bit of work to finish. While he'd slowly been turning over his various businesses to new owners, he was keeping his fingers in enough places to keep him busy during the long, quiet days.

"You lied to my son."

With a sigh, Vlad looked up. Another set of blue eyes, eerily familiar to young Andrew's, was sitting in one of the chairs across from Vlad's desk. "Yes, I did, Daniel."

"You realize how hurt he's going to be when you don't show up?"

Vlad nodded. "You realize how little I care?" The elder half-ghost arched an eyebrow, setting down his pen and folding his hands. "Why did you even let him ask me? You already knew the answer."

Daniel shook his head with a sigh. He leaned forwards in his chair, an odd look in his eyes. "Doesn't it get old, Vlad?"

"Doesn't what get old?" Vlad murmured.

The blue eyes narrowed. "Don't pull the idiot card with me. You know what I'm talking about."

Vlad did know and he wasn't terribly surprised that the dodge hadn't worked. Unlike the rest of his family – parents and children included – Daniel was rather quick on the uptake. Mostly likely, at least so Vlad thought, due to all of the years of dealing with himself. He thought for a moment, knowing that Daniel would most likely catch anything but the most subtle lie as well – the boy simply knew him too well. "No, it doesn't," he said sourly. "I happen to like the quiet and the lack of people barging in when I'm trying to get some work done."

Daniel sighed, catching the subtle jab. "It's one dinner, Vlad."

"It's one dinner, Daniel," Vlad shot back. "I doubt it will matter much in the grand scheme of things."

Rubbing a hand through his hair, Daniel looked around the opulent office, allowing an almost friendly silence to fall between the two. "You've still got my mom's picture on your wall," he said after a long moment.

Vlad couldn't help the grin that drifted onto his face, glancing over at the portrait of the only woman he'd ever fallen in love with. It had been her death a year earlier that had finally snapped the rivalry between the two half-ghosts. They weren't friends by any means, but some of the deepest fissures between them were slowly starting to heal. "Yes," he said softly.

"She'd want you to be there."

Vlad's eyes snapped back to Daniel's, narrowing angrily. "Low blow,_ Daniel_."

Daniel returned the glare with a slight smile. "Doesn't change the facts, fruit-loop. You know that she'd want you to be there after everything you did for her." He hesitated, his hand creeping up to rub the back of his neck. "And I think she'd have been right. You really should come."

For a few seconds, Vlad quietly gazed at the younger man. Daniel flushed a little under the intense scrutiny, but refused to look away, meeting him stare for stare in an odd repeat of the performance at lunch with Andrew. "Really," Vlad murmured.

Daniel nodded. "Yes. Come on, Vlad. It'll be fun."

Vlad shook his head, picking up his pen again and turning his attention to his work. He made it through a few pages of his work before he looked up. The boy – Vlad shook his head again, catching himself; Daniel was far from a boy anymore – the young man was gone.

--

Vlad was still standing in his office less than an hour later, arms crossed on his chest, looking up at the picture of the woman who he'd been in love with for many years. Despite everything, she'd fallen, her never-let-die personality surviving until she'd slipped away in her sleep. All of the money in the world couldn't conquer the cancer that had eaten her alive.

While it wasn't unusual to see him standing here, studying the most beautiful woman on the planet while thoughts churned in his head, his train of thought was a bit unique. It had been a long time since he had even had a passing thought about venturing to any of the Fenton homes. Now, here he was, standing and thinking about actually going to Daniel's house.

On an invite, much less. What odd turns the world had taken the past few years.

If he was being honest with himself – something he tried not to do very often – he figured that he would admit that a small piece of him wanted to go. His life had always been stressful and quick-paced and lately it had fallen into something that was almost _boring_. Traveling over to Daniel's house for a meal, trying to deal with the youngest half-ghost and Daniel's wife, not to mention the rest of the fiasco that was invited as well, would be a wonderful distraction for the night.

Admitting that, however, would also be admitting to a weakness. Vlad could feel his back straighten and his fists clench at the thought. He was self-reliant and powerful; he didn't need someone else. If he couldn't have Maddie, he wouldn't have anyone.

Forcing himself to relax, he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. He didn't need anyone… and yet Andrew's invitation would not stop circling around his mind like the world's most annoying fly. "What do you think, Maddie?"

Nothing answered, which wasn't much of a surprise. He was quite aware of the fact that she was dead and wasn't going to answer. That didn't stop him from asking again, however, and wishing that she would answer. "Do you think I should go?"

He wrinkled his nose. "It's not like I have anything to bring to the stupid potluck anyways." Nodding as if that settled that, he turned and walked out of his office.

But the idea of going to the party would not leave him alone.

--

Vlad stared at the clock. He'd long since turned the chime off, but he could hear the sounds in his mind.

Four o'clock.

He wasn't going to the party. He didn't _want_ to go to the party. But here he was, gazing up at the clock, unable to get his mind off of the stupid thing. "Idiot Fentons," he muttered darkly.

It didn't make him feel any better.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past…" a voice slowly intoned behind him, forcing a sigh out of the eldest half-ghost's throat.

"Christmas Past and Present have already been here," he said, not turning around to see who _else_ had come to bother him. Why couldn't people simply leave him alone? "You're stuck with Christmas Future."

"It's technically the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. And I don't want to be that one – I don't have the outfit for it."

Vlad arched an eyebrow, watching the clock tick to 4:02. "You're missing the party, Danielle."

"So are you," she said pleasantly. "My car's out front and I even picked up some appetizers for you to bring."

"I'm not going." He turned around to look at his daughter. She was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, a weapon held loosely in one hand, and _very _pregnant. Vlad blinked at her belly in surprise before dragging his eyes up to meet hers.

Her scowl was quite easy to spot. "I drove all the way here to pick you up. I picked up something for you to bring. I had to _pick the lock_ to get in here since you won't answer the doorbell and I can't phase through things right now. And you're _seriously _going to say '_I'm not going'_?"

"You're pregnant," he said slowly, not really processing what she'd just said. Yes, he knew that she'd gotten married and that she was a successful business woman… But having children?

"I'm due in early February."

"Boy or girl?" he whispered, not so much because he was interested – which he was _not_, he told himself firmly – but because he was thrown off by the idea of his daughter having children.

"Twin girls," Danielle said after a moment, her scowl slowly vanishing. She sighed and shook her head. "Vlad… father… come to the stupid party."

Vlad was still staring at her, trying to wrap his mind around what he was seeing. "How did you get pregnant?"

With a sudden laugh, Danielle leaned against one of the door jams and grinned. "Do you want the specifics?"

"No," Vlad said quickly, finally shaking himself out of the daze he'd found himself in. "I'm just…" he trailed off, not quite sure what to say.

"If you'd return my phone calls you would have known months ago," she said, rolled her eyes, and repeated herself. "You're coming to the stupid party."

Vlad opened his mouth to argue, but his eyes were drawn to the ectogun dangling from one her hands. Years earlier, he'd run into the Lunch Lady when she was pregnant with her child. It had been one of the only times in recent memory when he'd been truly afraid of a ghost. Whenever a ghost managed, however insanely and illogically, to get pregnant, that ghost was best left alone. Violent, unpredictable, intensely protective, able to access power well beyond their normal limits…

And one had shown up at his front door. A tiny shiver ran down his spine. "Daniel sent you, didn't he?"

"He asked me to come and pick you up, yes," she acknowledged.

"And if I refuse to come?"

Her grin turned evil, her eyes twinkling, her grip on the ectogun shifting slightly. "You're going to the party no matter what you say." She tipped her head to the side, her short-cut hair barely long enough to dangle in her eyes. "You want to go anyway, father. Come with, pretend I'm forcing you if it soothes your hermit ego, and complain about it for the rest of the year if you wish. But come."

He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her for a long moment. "I'm busy," he muttered.

"And that's the lamest excuse I've heard all year." She turned around and walked out the door. "Come on." She didn't look back to see if he was following.

Vlad dug in his heels for a moment longer, refusing to move. He didn't _want_ to go the party and he wasn't going to go. Nobody could force him to go – he was fifty-eight years old and if he didn't want to go to the party…

A flash of green light slammed into the ground next to his feet leaving a smoldering crater. Vlad caught the flinch before it could be seen, glancing down at the hole in his carpet and surveying the rather extensive damage. Danielle's ectogun was on its highest setting.

Still, he thought about resisting. Danielle probably wouldn't force the issue if she really was that pregnant. Then again, there were all those temperamental ghost hormones flushing through her system. Sinking to extreme violence to get her way was not out of the question. For just a moment, he felt a flash of sympathy for Danielle's husband.

Then, with a scowl that would have had armies dropping to their knees and begging for mercy – a look that held absolutely no sway over any of the other half-ghosts in the world – Vlad stormed out the door and headed towards Danielle's car. "Stupid party…"

--

Vlad held the plate of appetizers in his hand as Danielle and the ever-annoying man she'd chosen to marry, a bland creature named 'Rick', led him towards the front door of the younger Fenton household. He glanced down at the plate with a bit of a sneer, already knowing that it would be a source of amusement at the party. His oh-so-loving daughter had gotten him a plate of cheese. And not just normal cheese – it was green and yellow cheese, arranged in the symbol of the Packers.

The door burst open, life and light and cheer spilling out onto the sidewalk. "You're late," came an annoyed voice, the illustrious Sam Fenton ushering the three of them inside. "Not as late as I expected," she added, "but you're still late." Without a word, she took the plate of cheese from Vlad, handed it to an invisible child behind her, and grabbed the bowl of whatever Danielle had brought.

Andrew flickered into view, staring down at the cheese with a disgusted look on his face. "_Someone _needs to bring something that's not good for you," he moaned, then glanced up at Vlad. "I was counting on you to bring cookies or something."

"I think it's an excellent choice," Sam said and shooed her offspring towards the kitchen. "On the counter by the chips. You can drop your coats in the guest bedroom," she added with a harried grin. "Everyone's here except Jack."

"Excellent," Vlad muttered to himself as he slipped out of his coat and carefully laid it on the appointed bed, one that was already decorated with a multitude of jackets of different shapes and sizes. He spent a moment counting the jackets – coming up with fourteen – trying to delay walking into the other room.

"Uncle Vlad," Andrew said from the doorway, "you gonna stand in here for an hour or are you gonna come out and get something to eat?"

Vlad looked up and sighed, allowing himself to be conned out of the room without any sort of argument. Andrew led him down the short hallway and into the bustling living room before vanishing through the crowd. Holding back a little, he surveyed the mob of people – all of them far too happy for having been dragged here like he did.

Jasmine and her husband were there, along with their two brats – none of whom Vlad remembered the names for. Tucker was there with his wife and their daughter, as was Valerie and her adopted boy. There were two people that Vlad vaguely recognized as the elder Mansons, and two boys that Vlad had never seen before. Sam, Daniel, and Andrew were there, of course, although Daniel wasn't anywhere he could see.

Smart. The apple had definitely fallen far from the tree thanks, in a large part, to him.

Daniel appeared behind him, leaning against the door frame. "You look positively pleasant, fruit-loop."

"I don't want to be here."

"Sure you don't," the young man drawled. "But, since you're here, you might as well find a chair and make the best of it until we let you leave."

"And enter _that_?" he said, pointing into the mass of people. "I'd rather stay here."

Daniel blinked at him, a surprised look on his face. "You realize that by hanging in the doorway, purposefully trying to ignore us, you are not only going to attract the attention of Mrs. Psychologist over there," he pointed to his older sister, "and her miniature psychotherapist son who will try their best to analyze and 'fix' you the _entire _evening, but, in general, everyone else will be over here trying to get you to join in the fun." He grinned, a small flicker of malicious glee in his eye.

Vlad growled under his breath and stalked into the room, Daniel a few steps behind him. "You are getting good at getting people to do what you want," Vlad muttered, searching for an empty chair outside of the main chatter.

"Learned from the best, Vlad," Daniel responded, touching his shoulder as he walked past and vanished into the kitchen to help his wife.

Finding a chair quite a distance out of the way, he found himself unfortunately seated next to Danielle's husband. Two years of dating and almost two years of marriage had done nothing to endear the men to each other, Vlad maintaining his firm belief that the less time he had to be around his supposed 'son-in-law' the better. Not bothering with a greeting on the half-hope that Rick wouldn't speak to him, Vlad settled down in his chair and crossed his arms, exuding every ounce of 'leave me alone' he could muster.

"How is your latest business deal going?" Rick thinks-he's-a-great-businessman asked, either ignoring or not caring about Vlad's obvious body language.

"Slowly," Vlad ground out, not wanting to talk about it. The acquisition of Axion Labs was taking longer than it should – the prospective buyer was too smart for her own good. He physically turned his back on Rick, staring unexpectedly into the eyes of the youngest of Jasmine's children – who was no more than two.

"Perhaps you should try taking the other businessman on a short trip, I've always found that warms them up to deals," Rick said, still not taking the hint.

Vlad ground his teeth a bit. "I hadn't thought of that," he lied.

"It works wonders," Rick continued. "I sold almost ten thousand units to this man when I took him out to eat at a restaurant. I probably could have moved my company's entire stock if I could have taken him on a trip someplace."

"No doubt he bought some to get away from you," Vlad muttered under his breath.

Rick apparently didn't hear. "And I hold the record for moving the most units in a month, you know. A hundred fifty _thousand _units last November. I was the employee of the month…"

Between contemplating the fact that his employees would have been fired _long _before they dropped to selling a measly hundred fifty thousand of _anything _and trying to decide how badly he would be beaten up if the pregnant half-ghost's husband were to take a short walk off a long pier, Vlad came to the conclusion that trying to talk to a two-year-old had to be better than listening to the man ramble.

At least, he thought the youngest brat was two.

"How are you today?" he asked her, trying for a smile.

The girl stuck a finger in her mouth and stared at him, green eyes wide. She backed up a small step, turned, and raced over to her mother. Jasmine simply picked her up and handed her one of the squares of cheese.

"…I've been employee of the month a few times since then, you know," Rick was still saying as Vlad sighed and resigned himself to a wasted evening, "but nobody's ever come close to beating my record. I hold second place as well, you know-"

"_V-man_!"

Vlad looked up, for the first time in decades being able to classify himself as anywhere near 'happy' to hear that annoying nickname. A large man, still dressed in the ever-present orange, was striding through the crowd of people like Moses parting the Sea of Reeds. "Jack."

"I didn't think you'd come," Jack boomed, unceremoniously shooing Rick out of the chair and dropping into it. "Danny said he'd twist your arm, but I still thought you'd win."

"He cheated," Vlad muttered, leaning back in his chair and sighing. "He sent my daughter in for me."

Jack chuckled, his eyes lighting up as they focused on the very pregnant woman in the party. "You ready to be a grandpa?"

There was a beat of total silence as Vlad contemplated that one. For all _biological _intents and purposes, Danielle and he shared little DNA, but they'd more-or-less adopted each other over the years, becoming father and daughter. "That would make me…" he trailed off.

"It's actually a lot more fun than being a parent. You get to do all the fun stuff and if they get annoying, start crying, get sick, or tired, you can just send them home!" Jack grinned happily. "Next time I'll just skip right over the parenting part."

"Next time?" Vlad asked with an arched eyebrow.

Jack blinked a few times, then laughed at his own badly chosen words. "You know what they're going to be yet?"

"What going to be?"

"Danielle's kids."

Vlad crossed his arms over his chest. "Twin girls, apparently."

"That'll be an experience," Jack said with a nod. "If you need any ideas for baby gifts, I've got lots of ghost equipment still hanging around in the Ops Center."

An incredulous look crossed Vlad's face as he glanced up at his sometimes-called-a-friend friend. He didn't know much about children – and even less about babies – but ghost equipment?

Jack caught the look, his grin growing. "Mads and I gave Danny and Sam a supped-up portable ghost shield when they had Andrew. And a baby-sized Hazmat suit."

The picture of an infant dressed in Day-Glo orange spandex flashed through Vlad's mind and an unbidden chuckle slipped out of his throat. "I'm not sure Danielle would appreciate Hazmat suits for her-".

"_GRANDPA JACK_!" Andrew practically flew across the room, throwing himself into Jack's arms. "You have to save me," he said seriously.

"Ghost?!"

Andrew's face twisted and he shook his head. "_Nobody_," he said conspiratorially, "brought anything worth eating to this party. _Please _say you brought desert."

"Your mother said only healthy food," Jack said with a shrug and an apologetic smile. "Jazz says I brought a bowl of fruit salad."

The devastated look on the boy's face was almost enough to get Vlad chuckling again. Perhaps this party was worth coming to – he hadn't come this close to laughing in years. "Not even fudge?" Andrew whimpered.

Jack glanced around, then put a finger to his lips. "Don't tell your mother," he whispered, pulling a small bar of plastic-wrapped fudge out of a pocket. His large fingers quickly separated the bar into two pieces and he handed one over to his grandson. "Secret?"

"Definitely," Andrew whispered, holding the fudge close to his chest as he faded from view.

"He's going to be bouncing off the walls later," Vlad droned as Jack took a large bite of his remaining fudge.

Jack grinned. "Not my kid; I get to go home in a few hours." He swallowed his bite. "I love being a grandpa."

"You two look guilty," Sam said darkly as she walked up to them. "What did you give Andrew?"

"Nothing?" Jack tried, but Vlad figured that the fudge around his mouth would give him away.

Sam sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "I need some help in the kitchen and Danny's disappeared _again_. You mind carving a ham for me, Vlad? I don't want to touch the thing."

Vlad, who had been assuming that Sam was over to ask Jack to help, blinked up at her in surprise. "Me?"

"Yes, you. You won't add any 'special' ingredients that make the food get up and do the jig-"

"That was a square dance," Jack interrupted.

"-on the kitchen table. And I can trust you not to 'fix' anything in my kitchen while you're in there. And, unlike Tucker, I believe that you won't eat it all before anyone else gets a chance." Sam stared at the eldest half-ghost for a moment. "So, Vlad, would you mind carving a ham for me?"

"He'd love to," Jack bellowed, answering for his friend.

Vlad shot him a look, then sighed and stood up. "Lead the way, Samantha."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "You call me that again and I'll carve _you _up instead." She twisted around on her heel and stalked back into the kitchen, Vlad a few steps behind.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" Vlad asked when the kitchen door swung shut behind them.

Sam pointed towards the ham. "What gave you the first clue?" she muttered. She grabbed her own knife and walked to a chopping board, slicing through the vegetables that were lying on the counter, murmuring under her breath. Vlad barely caught a few references to himself, take over the world plans, torture, mind control, and illegal cloning experiments.

Picking up the knife and slowly slicing through the ham, Vlad decided that he needed to spend more time in the kitchen. If he ignored the ranting housewife with the eight-inch butcher knife behind his back – which he found to be rather difficult to do – it was almost peaceful.

--

Vlad Masters was sitting at a dining room table that was three sizes too small, scrunched between Jack and the creature fondly known as Rick. Although Vlad wouldn't have admitted to the fact that he was going out of his way to stick his elbow in his son-in-law's ribs as often as possible, Vlad got a sort of deranged enjoyment out of doing it. And it wasn't like the drab man didn't deserve it.

"Andy, stop flinging peas with your fork," Sam murmured to her son. "One of them might bounce back and poke your eye out."

Andrew pointed at Jazz's son, whom Vlad had finally determined was named 'Martin', and said, "He started it."

"I'm finishing it," the woman stated firmly. "Stop flinging the peas or you'll be eating with no fork."

The youngest of the half-ghosts had just formed his face into a frown, setting down his fork, when a mushy pea flicked through the air and stuck to his cheek. Andrew flinched and swiped at the pea, stared at it in surprise, and then looked up to see who the culprit was.

Vlad had not only seen the pea fly, he had also seen who had been wielding the instrument of its inglorious ending. He had no doubt that if Andrew had been _his _grandson, not only would the boy have not gotten hit by the pea, but would have also discovered who had flung it and already have devised some sort of pay-back plan. Instead, he was staring around the table in disbelief, never noticing the way his mother was glaring at Jack and the way that Jack was hiding his own fork under the table.

"This was delicious, Sam!" Tucker said brightly, his plate – which had once been piled high with all the different forms of meat that had been brought to the party – clean of everything but a few bones. "And nothing tried to run away or eat me."

Sam broke off her glare long enough to glance at Tucker and sigh. "I was overruled on the menu," she muttered. "I tried for veggie-friendly, but I was ambushed at the store."

"Nice." Tucker nodded at Daniel, who returned the grin. "I knew you having a kid would come in handy sooner or later."

"Yeah, Tucker, Andy's sole purpose in life is to make sure they have meat when you come to visit," Jazz drawled.

Tucker blinked at her. "Of course. Are kids supposed to have some purpose other than to serve me?" He glanced down at his little girl and poked her head. "What about you – do you have a purpose in life other than the poop and drool on my stuff?" The baby girl looked up, her face covered in mashed potatoes, and giggled when Tucker crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

Vlad looked away from the display, looking down at his plate. It was empty. If this would have been his party, a server would have already whisked the plate away, dropping some high-quality desert in its place.

Unfortunately, he was at Daniel's house – there was no such service. Dessert was coming via half-gallon tubs of frozen, mass-produced ice cream with cheap chocolate sauce… and he would no doubt have to serve himself. For a few moments he tried to weight this annoyance against some positive side of coming to this party, but then he gave up.

He'd had more than enough interaction and Fentons for one day. He was ready to go home and sit in his quiet library.

"It's got to be time for desert," one of the nameless boys sitting next to Andrew said, his whole body seeming to perk up when a few of the adults around the table nodded in agreement. It took only a few seconds for the three boys to vanish into the kitchen, Jazz's son and Valerie's daughter only a few steps behind.

Vlad tended to agree with them – he was ready for an excuse to get up from around the table as well. He pushed his chair backwards and got to his feet, grabbed his plate, and headed towards the kitchen. Perhaps he could just sneak out the back door while no one was looking – it wasn't like he needed to wait for someone to give him a ride home.

"I'll come with you, Vladdie," Jack said as he got to his feet and trailed a few steps behind.

After dumping his plate in the sink with the rest of the dishes, Vlad leaned against the table and watched the five children struggle to get the container of ice cream open. Jack settled next to him, his arms crossed, quiet for one of the first times Vlad could remember.

Andrew was two steps from simply phasing the ice cream out of the pail when Vlad narrowed his eyes and stepped up behind him. "Like this," he muttered, grabbing the lid and giving it a sharp yank. The lid came off in his hands, accompanied by five excited cheers.

"Thanks, Uncle Vlad," Andrew said, snatching the bucket away and back towards the tables set up in the other room. The other four children grabbed the stacks of bowls and spoons and the squirt-bottle full of chocolate sauce and vanished after him.

"Andy's the ringleader," Jack said once quiet had fallen again. "Reminds me a lot of Danny when he was that age."

Vlad grabbed a towel and wiped a few smears of ice cream off his hands. "He reminds me more of you than Daniel, if you ask me."

"Did you have fun tonight?"

Glancing over his shoulder at the serious look on Jack's face, Vlad snorted. "I didn't want to come."

Jack nodded, but simply gazed at him. "But did you have even the _littlest _bit of fun?"

Vlad tapped his fingers on the counter and studied Jack. "I'm not Scrooge, Jack. I'll admit that I had a little bit of fun – but even though I was visited by three ghosts on Christmas Eve, I don't need to be taught the true meaning of Christmas."

"I didn't think you did," the large man laughed. "Are you coming to the New Years Eve party?"

"No." The answer was instantaneous.

--

In the end, he didn't sneak out the backdoor and leave. The Fenton party eventually dissolved into a high-stakes game of charades – the losing team getting the job of washing the immense amount of dirty dishes piled in the kitchen. Sam had been chosen to be the judge, since she'd cooked everything and didn't want to risk the chance of having to clean it all up as well, and Vlad had chosen to stand in the doorway and watch the party-goers make idiots out of themselves.

…although, the image of Jack trying to pretend to be a mouse was something Vlad would never forget. It caused a small, secretive smile to drift across his face whenever the memory jumped into his mind.

Jack's team had eventually come out victorious, forcing Daniel and his cohorts to spend the next half-hour washing dishes while the rest of them lounged about and teased them. Vlad didn't do any of the teasing, but he did enjoy the sight of the annoying Rick in a pink apron, his arms covered in soap suds. It seemed like the perfect job for him.

He was actually finding himself having a lot more fun at this party than he had originally expected. People were generally leaving him alone to just sit back and watch, which was exactly what Vlad preferred. Some people stood around and talked, others started to watch some stupid show on television, and Jack set up a checkers tournament with anyone willing to play him. Vlad had only agreed to play when it became obvious that everyone else had already beaten the large man.

To be honest, he was caught by surprise when the clock finally struck ten o'clock and the party started to break up. Danielle had offered a ride back to his home, something that Vlad had refused. He could fly home well enough – and he couldn't stand to be around Rick for another few minutes. "Remember what I told you about treating your clients to a dinner," Rick said as he put his coat around Danielle's shoulders. "I worked wonders. I was employee-"

"-of the month, I know," Vlad interrupted sourly. "Leave."

The man blinked and took a small step backwards, but his everpresent smile never wavered. "I'll see you in the car, Dani."

His daughter turned to him. "Thanks for coming to the party… father."

Vlad just narrowed his eyes – hoping that his thought of '_I was dragged here against my will, no thanks are required_' was making it through without any translation.

Danielle laughed a little and leaned forwards to put a quick peck to his cheek. "And, for the ninth time, it's Richard. Stop calling him Rick."

The eldest of the half-ghosts snorted, but his daughter had already vanished through the door. He knew that the annoyance's name was really Richard, he just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of that man being named anything as regal as 'Richard'. Rick suited the man much better. In fact, if 'Richard' ever stopped to look at his birth certificate again, he might find that his legal name had been fixed to suit his personality.

Vlad shrugged into his own coat, not bothering to button it up before he stepped out onto the front steps, the chill air slicing through his human body. A few people pushed past him – more than one carrying a sleeping child in their arms – before Vlad decided to head home. He walked down the sidewalk for a few blocks before finding a suitable place to transform into his ghost self and head for home. Perhaps tonight wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be.

Perhaps he would even classify it as fun. Perhaps he'd agree to go without nearly as much foot-dragging if he was ever invited again.

Perhaps.

_The End._

_--_

_Odd references:__  
-The Christmas Carol: the three ghosts and Scrooge, of course.__  
-How the Grinch Stole Christmas: Cindy Loo (Jazz's daughter) who was no more than two, Vlad carving the meat ('roast beast'), and the table (heart) being three sizes too small.__  
-A Christmas Story: poking your eye out_

_Other odd notes:  
-This was coauthored. While I wrote a lot more WORDS than my friend did, she is responsible for a lot of the content – including the lack of angst. But whenever we write a story, we always stick in references to ourselves… including:  
-Rick: This is a replica my coauthor's ex-husband, who had now not paid child support for four months despite the fact that he has a well-paying job. The pink apron is my addition to his torment.  
-The various children are actually exact copies of MY cousins and their respective families, children's names I stole directly from the actual dingbats.  
-The 'It's the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Be' line is also taken from one of my friends, who is a literary maniac and constantly corrects us on minute details like that. The 'I don't have the right outfit' is what my coauthor would have said in reply to the comment.  
-And lastly, the Packer's-designed plate of cheese? Actually have seen one – it was at a tailgating party. VERY creepy._


End file.
